Dissillusion
by milklizard
Summary: Oh Christ doesn't even begin to cover it.


Okay, it's my first ever attempt at a fanfic, so feedback would be greatly appreciated (:

Disclamer: me no own, you no sue.

* * *

"Oh Christ" doesn't even begin to cover it, but it's all you can say without your voice breaking, as you run from the scene, tears already beginning to streak your face. In the opposite direction to Naomi of course - you don't think that you could take much more of that look on her face, that accusatory glare combined with regret and finally, anguish, that you could see she was trying her hardest to hide, but failing miserably.

Finally finding a quiet enough spot to just stop and take a moment to sift through the haze of what just happened, you try to catch your breath and wipe the tears from your cheeks, the sound of your ragged breathing filling your consciousness as you desperately rack your brains for a way to make this all alright again.

Coming up short on miracle solutions, and breathless for more than one reason, you turn your mind to how the hell she could have found out that you slept with JJ, burying your face in your hands, your anxiety building by the second.

And you come to the only conclusion possible - that the only way she could have found out would be if _somebody had told her_.

But _who_ could be that _vindictive_? _Who_ could be that _spiteful_? _Who_ would want to sabotage all of the effort that you had put into breaking down Naomi's walls one by one, so badly that they would deliberately destroy it?

Because it had been destroyed, that much you could gather from the look on Naomi's face.

Paranoia sets in, as you begin to wonder just how many people other than Freddie that JJ could have told in the space of time between _that night_ and now.

It doesn't matter who told her you suppose, because everything's fucked now anyway, she wouldn't take you back, not after this, you think, despair beginning to take a hold, a feeling all too familiar, what with the way Naomi's been fucking you around so often over the last couple of months.

It's no use just sitting here agonising over why someone would do this to you, you tell yourself, it was inevitable that she would find out anyway, you even came close to telling her yourself on a few occasions, to try and put a stop to the pang of guilt that you felt for not being totally honest with her. You don't class it as cheating though, not really, because Naomi was acting so fucking distant back then, acting as though sending a small smile in your general direction was a _chore. _Sleeping with JJ had meant nothing to you anyway, Naomi should know that better than anyone, you had been simply trying to help him out. Well, that'll be the last time you'll do anyone a favour.

Deciding that you couldn't just sit out here while Katie was most likely giving Naomi hell inside, undoubtedly making things even worse than they already were, you heave yourself towards the hornet's nest, forcing one foot in front of the other every step of the way.

As soon as you step through the doors of the college and past all of the tacky, love-themed decorations that further twist the knife in your stomach, your heart sinks as you hear sounds of a scuffle coming from one of the corridors, immediately guessing who it could be.

As you round the corner you can finally make out just what they are bellowing at each other, and catch the end of one of Katie's more generic remarks, "... you're just a slut!"

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it" Naomi retorts without a pause, echoing your thoughts perfectly.

Neither one has noticed you, standing in the doorway, wearing a forlorn expression, desperately trying to think of a way to stop the two people, whom you care most about in the entire world, from fighting, they're just too busy at each other's throats. But when Naomi drops the "You didn't need to blab about JJ, you just loved doing it," bomb, you gasp, and your breath hitches in your throat, anticipating Katie's response, and _hoping _that you're totally wrong.

Nobody knows Katie better than you do though, and she doesn't disappoint, delivering her venomous response "she deserved it!" that makes you feel as though you've been punched in the stomach,and when you answer, your voice sounds weak and breathless.

Katie's shock is bloody obvious, written all over her face, and for once she doesn't have an answer for your "What did I deserve Katie?" just looks at you blankly for a couple of seconds before saying your name. Your eyes meet with Naomi's for just a second, and suddenly you're breathless once again, incredulous at how much Katie's managed to fuck things up for you, so much so that you can't even bear to look at her. You rush back down the corridor, trying to ignore all of her pointless attempts at justifying her actions, each one building the burning rage inside you, building the desire to fight back against all of her shit. Because you're just shy, not a fucking doormat for her to walk all over whenever she feels like it, and you're finally sick of it.

Something inside you snaps, has been waiting to snap for years, and when you turn on Katie, her astonishment is not for the fact that you're suddenly attacking her, but for the fact that you're finally breaking away from her, that your fists are telling her that you're not going to be her submissive little marionette anymore.

Because you're finally sick of it.


End file.
